


Chromatism

by Reconciliation



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: I wrote this on the fly., M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:52:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6849571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reconciliation/pseuds/Reconciliation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it Kylo Ren or Ben that is the cause of Hux's sudden shift in perception?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chromatism

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the color/soulmate text post by Solohux: http://solohux.tumblr.com/post/143802958344/okay-so-we-all-know-the-soulmate-au-where-you-see
> 
> And the comic by sigalawin: http://sigalawin.tumblr.com/post/144298443574/that-soulmate-au-where-if-your-soulmate-is-alive

Hux could remember it all. His concentrated on staying in his dreams, his shallow breathing, regulated, he was consciously aware of his hand heavy on his stomach, the bed pressing up to meet his back, the memory coming forward on the surface of his mind, he was not delved in it any longer. He held onto it for as long as possible. The pain that scraped across the back of his throat as he swallowed tears. Echoes of what his mother told him, her surprise that he was so young when he saw the sky, he saw truly what was around him in its brilliant color.

He envied her. Everything was so pretty when there was love. A love as innocent as his in his mother's arms as she pointed every color out and said their names. It was especially striking when he saw his eyes, his hair...then everything started fading as he grew older. Like someone took a quill and stabbed his iris and all the color drained away, subtly the black crept over darker shades and dainty creams and yellows got paler like they aged.

Hux had held himself, crying, whimpering so softly in the nights at the academy. To sustain himself from abuse he carved himself from the bitterness and swept away all thoughts of a soul mate who died on him before they ever met. He remembered running around the colorful world looking, calling out to the other child, whomever they were to come and play with him. A foolish child's dream. He crumbled the sheets in his hand as the memory bit at his skin, boiled his blood, he turned over and screamed into the mattress.

Everything was bleak. Everything was greys, blacks, whites, and unbearable. Suffocating. Claustrophobic. A metallic sheet that was the sky felt like a cage. He wanted to pride himself about feeling nothing, but he felt everything. He saw in the gazes of those who could see color, their eyes lingering over his once red hair and green eyes, he knew they knew the joy. No one could ever place their finger on why Hux was against speaking of the specific wavelengths that their brain could translate to such a spectacular beauty.

He hated them. He resented his mother. His father. He was their child and he would never find that person because they were dead. He threw things sometimes when he was alone and in need of wallowing in self-pity. It was about time he had another breakdown. Breaking bones to make them stronger. More durasteel walls to layer upon his skin and hide behind. He draped his arm over his damned eyes, the longing, the loneliness, the pining, clawing at anything to feel the way he once felt, to recreate it like an addicting drug. Never again. 

Never again, the tears, the tightness in his throat, he was destined to choke on them one day. He was sounding fatalistic. This was absurd and too dramatic. He was taking a page out of Lord Ren's book. He raked his nails over his cheeks, punishing himself for the pathetic tracks along his face, pooling into the fabric. He could see the darker spot but was forgetting how color is affected in specific ways. He lifts himself from bed. 

Never again he sighs as he pulls on his uniform. The General. Alone. At his age. The pressure. He can't breathe, can't sleep, not in next two cycles. Never again. He remembered that the insignia had a brilliant red to its logo.

~

Was it a promise from Kylo to Ben or a promise from Snoke to become Kylo to restore his vision? It was part of the deal they made. Ren felt his personality torn to shreds as he completed every mission, every training session. The hatred, the rage, the turbulent storm inside his soul. He didn't want the fear, the lies, the betrayal, and the intrusive thoughts of it being too late. Far too late and too gone, the darkness was swallowing him. A vast ocean and the depths were crushing him as he ventured, sometimes not of his own volition, into the distance below him.

Plummeting, were his dreams. Whether it was the Force or Snoke or something that was messing his sight. Some days he could see color but it was a trick of the light for the Finalizer things were made of monochrome. Did the officers whisper or the troopers when they rounded the corner of why the fearsome Kylo Ren was staring at his ungloved hand? Did they ever wonder that a monster like him could have any capacity to love? Or did he lose the color sight and became that monster for it? Both, it was both. And more, there was more.

The pink undertone to his skin. He would reach out and touch the mirror because the person in there reflected him better than feeling his own flesh. Cold. Unsettled. Disconnected. He felt another surge of subtle nausea, the unrecognizable form he was in. There was no long a coaxing voice in his head because he was a prize already won. Too late. He memorized the heat of the plasma in his hands more than the color his dark eyes. Which was more important? Which one will he ever feel again?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading~
> 
> (I had to run to work so it's incomplete, sorry)


End file.
